


Warrior

by PuddingMcMuffin



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingMcMuffin/pseuds/PuddingMcMuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years before the Reach came to the planet Earth, there was another planet on their list for take-over. This assignment was one that Dawur, the warrior who would come to be known as Black Beetle, would not soon forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dawur stood in the command center of the Reach ship, tapping a finger impatiently on one of his crossed arms. The Reach's head of security was irritated. It had been four days since the Reach had arrived at a planet known as Debstam, and they had barely been able to make contact with the planet's infiltrator, let alone land and begin a take over. From what little information their agent had been able to give them during a brief transmission, there was some sort of issue with the planet's security. It also didn't help that there had been difficulty maintaining contact with the infiltrator. Though they weren't completely accurate, scans of the planet showed force fields were present around the more heavily populated areas, and it had been determined that these were interfering with their transmissions.  

 And on top of that, the infiltrator was late in reporting to the ship. All of these put together made the Reach's enforcer angrier than usual, with a dark aura surrounding him that told others to keep away.

  _"The new Head Scientist has been waiting to get your attention for quite some time now."_ The black scarab said, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him back to the present. Indeed, the newly appointed Head Scientist was standing a few feet away, waiting for him to notice her. Dawur had been so focused on glaring at the planet on the monitor that he had missed her presence completely.

 The Scientist stiffened slightly when the two made eye contact, clearly nervous despite her act of not being so. Both stayed silent for a few moments, each waiting for the other to speak first.  "If you need to speak to me then speak, Scientist," Dawur snapped.

 "Ah! Y-yes, my apologies," the Scientist stammered. Regaining her composure, she continued. "What could cause the infiltrator to be so late to report to us?"

 "... We don't know what the situation is on this particular planet. There have been other cases where it was difficult for our infiltrators to get around easily," Dawur spoke as he turned his head back to the monitor. As much as he hated waiting so long, he hated the attempt at small-talk even more. He hoped his attitude would tell the Scientist this and she would leave him alone.

 It didn't. After waiting a few moments, she asked, "Is it possible that the scarab could be malfunctioning? Not listening to orders?" The warrior looked back at her with a glare, making her flinch. "There has never been a scarab that was found to be off-mode. Every scarab that has been recovered has been fully functional," he growled. But then he paused, his glare becoming more questioning. "What would make you ask such a thing?"

 The Scientist seemed a bit more confident now, as she replied, "I worry about using such old technology. Even though we have more than a basic understanding of the scarabs, and though the infiltrators are a huge advantage when it comes to our invasion of worlds, are we certain that we can continue to count on them to do as they were programmed? We sent out so many to so many different worlds, it is possible that there is a planet that could cause a scarab to lose control of it's host, and I fear that could cause our downfall."

 Dawur remained silent, so the Scientist continued, "I have read reports where after the planet was taken over, the host managed to terminate itself. Yet we continue -"

 She was interrupted by Dawur's deep chuckling. She watched him in shock as he spoke, "Your first assignment and you're already criticizing the methods that have been used for millennia and claiming us to be so weak? What a way to make an introduction." Dawur continued to chuckle as embarrassment took over the Scientist's face and made her avert her gaze to the floor.

 "My apologies. I did not mean..." she trailed off as he waved her comment away. "Honestly, I could care less. You are not entirely wrong in your caution, but I recommend you keep such views to yourself. There are others on this ship who will care."

 The Scientist looked at him for a few more seconds before nodding silently and turning to face the screen. He turned back as well, remembering the annoyance that kept him waiting here in the first place.

  _"I would ask you to refrain from killing the infiltrator when they arrive,"_ The scarab's voice rang through his head. Dawur smirked at that. 'Well, if our new Scientist is correct and the scarab has malfunctioned, I won't have much choice, will I?'

  _"The chances of that happening are small to none, as there little reason for her to think so. Her thinking is flawed and she assumes too much."_

 'Are you saying you don't like her?' Dawur asked jokingly.

_"The former Head Scientist would have been a better choice for an unexpected situation such as this,"_ replied his scarab. It did have a point. The new Head Scientist had been a last-minute replacement, with the former being called away for a different assignment that their leaders had deemed more important. This was an unusual occurrence, but considering that the former Head Scientist had been an older woman close to finishing her years of service, it was understandable enough. 'I suppose you are correct,' admitted the warrior. _"I am always correct,"_ his scarab automatically replied. But before Dawur could make another comment, the Scientist spoke again.

 "The Ambassador must know something we do not, considering he is just as late as our infiltrator." Indeed, while there were a few technicians below them, they were the only two on the upper level of the room. Dawur's eyes narrowed as the scarab commented  _"I wondered when you would notice his absence."_

 "You be quiet," he hissed, then said to his companion, "It would not surprise me if he chose to withhold information." He paused before adding, "But there are times when I can't quite tell if he's scheming something or just being incompetent."

  _"I find it unwise to give her such information."_

 'It's fine,' the warrior reassured the scarab. Something told him the Scientist wasn't going to repeat anything he said to the Ambassador.

 The Scientist's face became pensive at his statement, but she made no comment, and the two again waited in silence for few minutes with the only noises coming from the technicians below.

 The relative quiet was interrupted by the sound of the large door of the room sliding open. Both warrior and scientist turned to see the Ambassador finally arrive, walking up to and past them to the monitor, not bothering to explain his tardiness. Instead, he zoomed in on the screen.

 "It seems our infiltrator has decided to arrive," the Ambassador said. Dawur looked at the screen and, indeed, there was a figure flying away from the planet towards the ship. The Ambassador pressed another button to give instructions to the guards.

  _"Not in the mood to fight with him today?"_ Dawur's scarab asked. To say that he and the Ambassador had a bad relationship would have been an understatement. The two men had different ways of doing things, and neither had any desire to listen to what the other had to say. This often caused conflict.

 'No'. Dawur was not in the mood, and from the looks of it, neither was the Ambassador. A snide comment would probably lead to another argument.

 "Now, Miss Head Scientist," the Ambassador spoke in an almost condescending tone, still not turning from the screen. "I trust you know what your duties are?"

 "To make certain that all scarabs are on-mode, to study them if there is anything new to learn, and to oversee all experiments preformed on any captives we collect?" The Scientist spoke automatically, but she seemed nervous again. Speaking with Dawur earlier had helped calm her down, but the Ambassador's presence must have put her on edge again.

 The Ambassador waited a few moments before clasping his hands behind his back and finally turning away from the monitor to face her. An annoyed expression was on his face, making her avert her eyes to the floor. "Correct," he answered quietly.

 'What is going on?' thought Dawur. This was very unlike the Ambassador to be treating a new member so coldly. Whenever a member was transferred to their ship, regardless of rank, Dawur's superior made it a point to personally welcome them and treat them politely. Now that he thought about it, Dawur wasn't sure if the Scientist had received any such welcome. Out of the whole ship, he was the one the Ambassador wouldn't bother pretending to be friends with. And even then, he tried to keep his dislike somewhat hidden from others. The only explanation for the shorter male's behavior seemed to be that these two already knew each other, and whatever had happened between them had left bad feelings.

 Dawur had never any desire to learn anything about his superior's past (and he still didn't), but he found himself unable to keep from wondering what could cause the Ambassador to treat the Scientist in such a way.

 The Ambassador turned back to the screen, still ignoring Dawur. There was yet another moment of silence before it was once again interrupted by the opening of the doors. All three of them turned as a figure came in, escorted by two guards. The person was dressed in blue and black armor, almost exactly like Dawur's. They were very obviously a woman; unusual in itself, but what stood out most was her lack of a mouth. And since the scarab armor was designed to make the host look like the Reach, it left the woman's face with only a pair of yellow eyes.  The woman continued forward as the guards waited at the edge of the room, and when she was a few feet away from the trio, she stopped and bowed to them.

"Infiltrator Khaji Ro, reporting for duty."


	2. Chapter 2

"Welcome aboard, Khaji-Ro," the Ambassador said as he stepped forward. The annoyed expression he had been wearing was now replaced with a cheerful smile. Even Dawur had to admit that faking kindness was one of his best skills.

'I can't say this infiltrator looks like much,' Dawur thought as he turned his attention back to Khaji-Ro.

_“No accurate opinion can be reached until we have observed her abilities,”_ the scarab replied. Dawur remained silent as the Ambassador introduced him to the infiltrator.

Now that he saw her up close, he could see that Khaji-Ro was unhealthily thin. The scarab armor was form-fitting, and all it did was show off just how gaunt the woman was. There was hardly any muscle on her, save for some on her arms and legs while the scarab's legs on her sides were seemingly trying to cover the places where her ribs pushed through. He wouldn't be surprised if a simple push sent her falling to the ground.

'Was this scarab so desperate for a host that it had to take one such as this?'

_“No accurate opinion can be reached until we have observed her abilities,”_ the scarab repeated.

He and the scarab refocused as the introductions finished.

"Now, I hate to be straight to the point, but we must know about the situation of this planet, and why it was so difficult for you to make contact with us." The Ambassador still held his kind tone, but it was laced with some sternness.

"My apologies, Ambassador," Khaji-Ro replied. "The situation on this planet is problematic, and the status of my host does little to help."

"Explain," Dawur ordered. She nodded as she continued, "This planet is ruled by a tyrant who goes by the name of Mongul. Like his father before him, Mongul is merciless, and keeps everyone in his cities under close watch. The majority of the planet isn't even used for housing the citizens – they are forced into small city areas so they can be watched constantly, while the rest of the planet is used as a garbage heap.”

“A paranoid tyrant?”

“Correct,” agreed the infiltrator. “The cities are surrounded by giant walls and force fields to prevent escape or outside communication, and the only way off the planet is a port that is connected to the coliseum.”

"Then is should be simple to spark a revolution. Despite any power he has, in the end, a tyrant is only one man," the Ambassador stated, an eyebrow raised.

Khaji-Ro shook her head. "It is not that simple. While there is much dislike for the planet's ruler, it is held in most part by the slaves. The actual citizens bare no ill will towards him. Under his rule, they have no duties; anything that must be done is done either by slaves or automated guards. The citizens believe that they are free to do as they please, and spend their time watching death matches."

"Death matches?" the Ambassador asked.

"The entertainment Mongul provides for his people, where his strongest warriors compete. These matches happen daily, and are the main attraction on this planet. The planet is nicknamed 'War World' for this reason," the infiltrator continued.

The Ambassador stayed silent before asking "Given the trouble it took for you to get here, how long can you remain before your absence is noticed?"

"An hour at most."

"An hour?" Dawur snapped. "You fail to report to us within a reasonable amount of time, give us little to no information when you arrive and now you can only stay for such a short period?"

Khaji-Ro turned her head down. "My apologies, but I would not be able to stay any longer without raising suspicion."

“Khaji-Ro,” the Ambassador interjected. “Would I be correct in assuming the status of your host is that of a slave?” Khaji-Ro nodded in response.

"Then we truly have no time to waste," the Ambassador said, turning to face the Scientist, "Take her to the lab and make sure that the scarab will operate properly. The top priority is that we will be able to keep in touch with her after she is back on the planet." The Scientist nodded, and then walked past him and the infiltrator. The latter followed, but not before bowing once more to Dawur and the Ambassador.

When the two had left, the Ambassador turned to Dawur for the first time since he entered the room. "Any input you would like to share?" he asked. Dawur's superior had no readable expression and his voice was monotone, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking.

“This infiltrator is a mistake,” Dawur replied. “Didn't you see how thin she was? I wouldn't be surprised if she died before we could even _begin_ an invasion, and then we will have the added trouble of trying to find another host.”

“Then infiltrator Khaji-Ro will simply have to do its best to keep her alive. At the very least, she will offer us insight to the planet that we would not get otherwise. She is essential to the diplomatic process.”

“... It is odd that the Green Lanterns are allowing these inhabitants to live the way they do. Slavery is banned within this sector,” Dawur said, looking back up to the screen.

“Someone is either incompetent, or simply doesn't care,” the Ambassador responded. “It is also possible that 'Mongul' has some sort of leverage that could allow this...” The Ambassador trailed off, becoming lost in his thoughts. Dawur took this as his cue to leave and walked out of the room. Whatever plan his superior was going to think up would need to wait. Dawur was still the Chief of Security, and he had duties that he wanted finished before the infiltrator left.

\-----

The hour time limit was close to finished when Dawur entered the Scientist's lab.

"Time is nearly up," he announced as walked in. The Scientist was standing at her workstation, typing into her keyboard with Khaji-Ro standing a few feet behind her. The Scientist jumped a little when she heard his voice, but kept her composure.

“I have already finished,” she replied, pulling away from her keyboard and holding out an object to him. A black and orange remote with a single blue button rested in her hand. “As the Ambassador ordered, we will now be able to keep in contact with Khaji-Ro even when she is within the city,” explained the Scientist.

“That easy?” Dawur asked.

“Yes, thanks to the scarab's prior analysis of the force fields.” She then looked over to the infiltrator, adding “And despite the fact that the scarab has never made contact with a host until only recently, it functions at full capacity.”

Dawur could not help the smirk as he teased “So we need not fear the scarab being off-mode and trying to ruin our plans by arriving late?” The Scientist's head turned back to him briefly, eyes wide in disbelief that he had said that in front of Khaji-Ro, before looking away. “It was within the realm of possibility...” she mumbled.

“You are amusing, Scientist.”

The Scientist looked back as if she was going to make a retort. But before she could, a technician entered the room and called to her, forcing her to leave the conversation. The look of embarrassment was still on her face as she left.

Dawur and Khaji-Ro stood in silence as they waited for the Scientist to return, Dawur taking the opportunity to look at the workstation's screen and the data on Khaji-Ro and Debstam.

“Was it believed that I had malfunctioned?” Khaji-Ro asked.

“No, it's not something you need worry about,” said Dawur, not bothering to look at her. He refused to say any more, continuing to look at the data. Neither said anything, but Dawur could feel her looking at him, trying to get him to speak to her. She finally gave up and chose to engage conversation herself. “Have I done something to upset you, Head of Security?”

“You are a disappointment as an infiltrator,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“You have made that determination without even witnessing our abilities?”

“Anyone can look at you and know your host is far too weak to be of use.” He continued scrolling through the files.

“Bringing you information about a planet you knew next to nothing about is not useful?” she challenged.

He scoffed, “That is only half of your duties. An infiltrator is meant to represent the Reach, show us off in a good light to the people of whatever planet we have come to, and allow us to invade.”

“We cannot help it that this is a barbarous planet we are dealing with.”

“No, you cannot. But even with hostile planets we have our ways. The Holy Writ has over ten thousand invasion plans, and more than half could be used in dealing with Debstam. However, with you as the way you are, it is unlikely you would be able to perform adequately.”

His words were more than enough to silence her, and he could sense the way she turned her head down in defeat.

_“How many times must I repeat that we cannot make an accurate judgment on her before you listen?”_ the scarab said.

'Since when have I ever listened to your advice?' Dawur taunted back.

The scarab gave an annoyed sigh, earning a chuckle from his host.

'Besides,' Dawur added, 'if she cannot handle a few harsh words, then she is even less fit to be a Reach Infiltrator.' The scarab gave no response, allowing Dawur to finish reading the computer's data in peace.

“No.”

Khaji-Ro's voice cut through the silence, and he finally turned to her, raising a brow when he saw her defiant stance.

“You are incorrect.”

He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms as he listened to her.

“This scarab will admit the host that was chosen was hardly the best that the planet could offer, but that does not make either of us worthless. We have been observing the planet for a period of time without any detection, and were successful in bringing the Reach information that was unknown to them. These facts alone should be enough to convince you of our worth. But if you refuse to acknowledge us, then we double our efforts to prove you wrong.”

Dawur considered her for a moment before replying.

“You are welcome to try.”

The conversation was interrupted by the Ambassador entering the room, the Scientist and the technician from earlier in tow.

“Now then, Khaji-Ro,” the Ambassador smiled, “We require you to stay on Debstam for the time being, until we can find out our plan of action.” He held up the Scientist's remote from earlier, “This remote will allow us to observe the planet by watching it through you. It will also allow us to keep in contact with you, so there need not be any more unnecessary risks for your reports. You shall be our 'eyes', so to speak.”

Khaji-Ro bowed her head, “I will do my best to serve the Reach.” Dawur watched the Ambassador as she said this, and noticed the latter's smile seemed to get a bit darker as he reached out a hand to grasp her shoulder.

“Very good, infiltrator,” he spoke softly.

Khaji-Ro made her way out of the room to officially start her mission, casting a final glance at Dawur before she left.

\-----

Days turned to weeks, and nothing seemed any different than when the Reach had first arrived. In fact, the only difference was that Dawur had seen a lot less of the Ambassador, who was spending the majority of his time observing their infiltrator on Debstam.

_“It is for the best that the two of you have had limited contact,”_ the black scarab told Dawur one morning. “Two of who?” Dawur asked, still half-asleep. _“You and the Ambassador. Who else would I be referring to?”_

Dawur said nothing, rubbing sleep from his eyes while his scarab armor finished forming around him. He then exited his quarters, expecting this day to be as uneventful as the previous.

However a little while after leaving his room he was approached by one of the guards. “The Ambassador requires your presence at the helm. There has been an update with the invasion plans,” the guard reported.

“Finally,” Dawur said, waving the guard away and beginning the walk down the long series of hallways.

He was passing by the labs when a door to his right slid open as he neared it, and out stepped the Scientist, who stopped to wait when she saw him approaching. “Were you sent for as well?”he asked.

She nodded, walking with him after he reached her.

“Did you believe anything was odd with the infiltrator?” she asked after a bit.

“Odd as in how?”

“The way the scarab referred to itself. There were several times when the scarab seemed to speak for itself and its host.”

“I had noticed that as well,” Dawur replied, his mind replaying the conversation he had had with Khaji-Ro.

“So that is not common among infiltrators?”

“No. More often than not, the infiltrator hosts will try to fight back, but there is little they can do. As you said once earlier, the hosts can sometimes manage go as far as to kill themselves to 'escape' us,” he said. “Most likely Khaji-Ro's host is willing to cooperate because of her status on Debstam. I can't imagine she has much love for her captors.”

The Scientist gave a small sigh. “I suppose I should have known that simply reading the reports of other invasions wouldn't be the same as actual experience on the field.”

“Would you have rather had an infiltrator that was fighting back?” the enforcer asked.

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “I was just given so many talks of how big of a responsibility it would be to be the Head Scientist of a fleet during my training, and yet within the weeks of my being stationed here, the most I have done was perform maintenance on an infiltrator scarab.”

“I see. So you would rather that your duties were more difficult. Don't worry,” Dawur declared. “Once we begin getting test subjects you'll be worked to death.”

The Scientist looked over to him, an eyebrow raised as she gave a small smile. “How kind of you to tell me so,” she replied sarcastically.

The friendly atmosphere vanished when they reached the door of the helm, entering the room to see the Ambassador waiting for them at the consol.

'I can already tell that he's scheming something,' Dawur thought when he saw the Ambassador, who smirked slightly upon seeing him.

“I think I may have something that will interest you,” the Ambassador spoke. Neither Dawur or the Scientist said anything as their superior brought up a video on the screen. On it were two figures standing in an arena; one was a male Thanagarian, judging by the large feathered wings on his back, while the other was a large squid-like creature whose species Dawur did not recognize. The two had been fighting for a while, judging from the amount of damage the fighters sported.

The Ambassador began to speak just as the video started playing, “This is a recording I took during surveillance of the infiltrator. As she said, the planet centers around fighting and death matches.”

“And it took you weeks to figure this out because...?” Dawur deadpanned.

“Don't patronize me, warrior,” the Ambassador snapped, “What's happening right now is irrelevant.” Behind him, the video showed that the Thanagarian had charged forward to try to stab his opponent, but it had been a blunder, as he was caught by the squid and was now having the life squeezed out of him.

All the while Dawur heard the cheering of a crowd, increasing in volume as the winged man was captured. The bloodlust was incredible, and cries for the death of the Thanagarian were numerous as said man was forced to his knees, the obvious loser of the fight.

But there was then an unexpected hush, the crowd becoming almost silent. In the arena the squid creature had paused his attack and looked upward, as if waiting for orders.

“Kill him.”

A deep voice boomed, and the spectators roared in approval as the Thanagarian was strangled to death.

From the corner of his eye, Dawur noticed the Scientist look away, clearly not used to the sight of death. He and the Ambassador, however, remained unfazed. “Here is what we are interested in,” the Ambassador spoke. The squid creature had tossed away the limp body of his opponent, but remained still, looking at where the voice had come from. The cheers of the crowd had turned into chanting, a name being repeated over and over.

Mongul.

A few more moments, and a platform descended into the ring carrying a lone figure. Dawur did not need to see him in person to tell that he was a formidable opponent. Mongul was a giant of a man, taller than even Dawur, and powerfully built. A silver headpiece covered half of his bare head, while the rest of him was dressed in surprisingly simple dark attire. Yet another species the Reach warrior had never encountered, Mongul stood passively with his hands behind his back, looking down at the squid in seeming disinterest.

An animated voice called out as the two finished their stare-down, “Mongul versus Krodar!”

“What is this, Ambassador?” questioned Dawur.

“A 'chance' for freedom,” replied the Ambassador as he turned to him. “The fighters are also slaves, but they have the chance to be set free if they can best their ruler.”

Dawur looked back to the video, where the new match was already underway. It didn't take long to realize who the victor would be as Krodar lunged at Mongul, only for two of his tentacles to be viciously ripped out.

“How can this be a chance at freedom?” the Scientist spoke up. “He has already been worn down; the likelihood that he will win is slim to none.”

“It isn't a chance, only a farce,” Dawur replied. “No doubt this Mongul counts on the weakness of his opponent to take care of them easily.”

Mongul had now grabbed Krodar's body and was slamming him against the wall, leaving an indent that slowly grew larger each time Krodar was smashed back against it.

“This is just a show for his people, to 'prove' that he is the strongest,” finished the enforcer.

“But what would happen if the fighter were to win?” the Ambassador interjected, “If their leader was defeated by a mere slave, the confidence his people had in him would surely be shattered. And that,” he said, “would make it much easier to overthrow him, would it not?”

'What is he scheming?' Dawur asked the scarab.

_“Based on the information he has disclosed, it is most likely-”_ the scarab stopped it's reply when the Scientist spoke up once more.

“Ambassador, are you planning on sending in the Chief of Security to defeat this tyrant?” A slight smirk appeared on the Ambassador's face as Dawur put the pieces together, the enforcer's eyes narrowing in annoyance that he didn't figure out what the Ambassador was hinting at earlier.

“So you are sending me in as a fighter so I can challenge and defeat Mongul,” Dawur said dryly.

“This situation calls for it,” the Ambassador explained.

“But is it not Khaji-Ro's duty as the infiltrator to complete this task?” the Scientist questioned.

“In a normal situation, it would be,” the Ambassador admitted. “However, Mongul's coliseum does not allow women to compete. And there is the problem that Khaji-Ro is already a slave in Mongul's palace, and has been so since before her host became a part of the Reach. There would no doubt be much suspicion if they found out she had gained powers, which is why she has kept that secret.”

“Why not have her simply assassinate Mongul?”

“While that may be easier, it would be best to overthrow him publicly to avoid an investigation by the Guardians. That is why if we work behind the scenes to destroy him while you gain his people's favor, the planet will welcome us with open arms, and we will be their liberators,” the Ambassador said, then taunted slightly “unless you feel you are not up to the task.”

Dawur glared in response before looking back to the screen, where Mongul stood triumphant with a foot resting on Krodar's unmoving body.

“I would not be so weak as to be defeated by meat such as that,” Dawur growled.

For once, the Ambassador answered truthfully.

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to apologize for the amount of time it took to post this. Real life problems hit me really hard after writing the first chapter, but hopefully updates will now come more frequently.
> 
> Thank you to my sister for being my editor.


	3. Chapter 3

“A member of the Reach? I don't believe I've seen one before.”

Dawur was barely paying attention, his gaze shifting between the sight of the landing dock and what he could see of a city beyond. He stood with about twenty other slaves, restrained by shackles and put on display for a blue skinned man in robes. The Reach had gotten him onto Debstam via Spider Guild slavers who had been paid a hefty sum to take him. While the Spider Guild generally couldn't be trusted, the Ambassador had counted on their greed to keep them from asking questions.

“And you probably won't see another – at least, not quite like this one, Lord Chancellor,” replied the slaver. “And you certainly won't get another chance to purchase one.”

The Chancellor, as Dawur now knew him, narrowed his eyes as he looked over Dawur once more. “But your price for this one is so much higher than the others.”

“Because his value is that much more. Look at the armor he wears, Lord Chancellor. That is only given to the strongest Reach warriors. I guarantee that he will provide great fights for the people's entertainment,” the slaver insisted.

The Chancellor stayed quiet for a few more moments, contemplating. 

'What happens if he doesn't accept?' Dawur asked his scarab.

_“The Ambassador will undoubtedly find a way to blame you,”_ was the reply.

“We'll take those six,” the Chancellor said as he pointed to various persons from the line. “And as for the Reachling...” he paused, “as long as you can guarantee that he won't die immediately, then I will purchase him for your ridiculous price.”

The slaver thanked him and sang his praises as Dawur shot the Chancellor an angry glare, to which the man gave a disgruntled look in return.

“I trust obedience will not be difficult to teach him?” the Chancellor asked as Dawur and the others were herded away from the docks.

“The Reach are prideful creatures, but every animal can be taught how to behave.”

Dawur glared back at the slaver. “One day I will find you and rip every limb out of your body,” he whispered. If the slaver heard him, he didn't react.

_“The Spider Guild is assisting us in this endeavor,”_ the scarab reminded him.

“I'll do it anyway.”

There was then a shove to his shoulder, almost making him stumble as he walked. “Silent,” came a metallic voice. Dawur looked to where the voice had come from, seeing up close one of the guards that was leading them away. Mostly white and triangular in shape, the guard hovered above the ground despite being fairly bulky, with a single yellow “eye” at the center of each guards' main body. Beside their torsos hung heavy-looking metal arms, with claw-like 'fingers' at the end of their hands. The hands also seemed unusually wide, and on closer inspection, it appeared that the arms were actually some type of gun.

'I need an analysis on these.'

_“Already scanning,”_ the scarab replied. _“Analysis complete. The War World guards appear to all be remotely connected to a single source, and are equipped with simple blasters. A more accurate analysis on their abilities will require more data.”_

Dawur and the rest were lead down a long series of hallways that went deeper and dirtier as they went along. Power lines ran near the tops of the walls, a few sparks of electricity flashing where the lines needed repair, and the lighting became more sparse and dingy as they went along. Eventually the floor stopped, and Dawur found that he was walking on ground covered in dust.

'This is Mongul's palace?' Dawur thought.

_“Perhaps he does not care about the state his prisoners are in.”_

They came to a stop at a large barred cell with a door at the end that slid open, and they were all unceremoniously shoved in. The guards left as soon as the door slid back shut, and the seven prisoners were left in the low-lit cell.

“It's over, it's over,” one captive started chanting, sinking to the floor to wallow.

“Shut up, scum!” snapped another. A loud thunk soon followed, with the first voice yelping and then the sound of scrambling on the dirt floor.

“Hey, leave them alone,” a third voice said. “We're probably going to die on this garbage rock, you don't need to go making it worse.”

“You'll probably die; I won't!” the second captive answered. “I'll live through this and get away from this place, and I don't need annoying weaklings like all of you around me!”

An argument ensued, quickly becoming a physical fight. Dawur lost interest immediately, and took a place next to the other end of the bars, looking back out to the hall.

'What happens now?' Dawur asked.

_“Khaji-Ro will have heard of our arrival, therefore we wait for her to make contact.”_

Dawur tsked. 'More waiting,' he thought.

_“Perhaps you can take comfort in the fact that this assignment will give you something to take out your aggression on.”_

Behind him, the fight seemed to have died down. Someone was on the floor, while the other was barely standing, breathing through haggard breaths. Everyone else had stayed away, pushing themselves against the wall as best as they could. The rules were unknown here; no one had said anything to the new slaves, what was expected, what conduct was to be maintained, nothing. And already, two of them had resorted to violence. Would only they be punished? Or would the whole group suffer for it? Would there be any punishment at all?

The second captive certainly didn't seem to think about this, or just didn't care, as he proclaimed, “All of you are weak.” Dawur finally looked back to see him standing up, swaying as he did so. He was fairly large, barely able to fit inside the room. It was hard to see in the low light, but as the scarab adjusted his eyesight, Dawur saw that pink fur covered the prisoner's body. He recognized him without the scarab's help: a Branx, a species that Dawur had encountered several times during his service to the Reach.

'That explains a few things,' thought Dawur. The Branx continued, “I was not brought into this life just to die here. I will survive, and will leave this hellhole! I am the strongest-”

_CRACK_

The speech stopped as the sound of ripping metal rang through the cell, and everyone turned their eyes to Dawur as his shackles fell to pieces on the floor.

The Branx struggled for words. “What?” he finally got out. Dawur looked back to him.

“Oh, I just couldn't stand these things anymore,” Dawur answered with a smile.

“You.... Did....” was the stuttered response. From what he could see, the Branx looked embarrassed, and shuffled away to the wall furthest from Dawur. The others followed suite, with only one scurrying back to try and tend to the one who was still unconscious on the floor.

_“Are you satisfied?”_

'For now.'

\-----

“Enforcer,” a voice whispered.

Dawur's eyes snapped open, and he looked out of the cell. A woman wearing a tattered dress stood in front of the bars, her only facial features being her red eyes and a diamond shaped mark in between them. With her pale blue skin, she could have almost passed as a member of the Reach if it weren't for her near lack of a face and the fact that she had long black hair, Dawur thought.

“Infiltrator,” he replied in a whisper. Khaji-Ro took a moment to scan the rest of the cell. It had been several hours since Dawur had arrived, and it was now late at night. The other slaves slept, all still staying away from Dawur after his stunt with the restraints.

“Your report,” he said. Khaji-Ro looked back to him. “You will be tested tomorrow in combat against one of the fighters,” she said. “This is a test to determine if you will be worth building up as a fighter or not.”

“So kill whoever I'm put up against.”

“I do not recommend that course of action,” said Khaji-Ro. “Whether the fighters are killed or not is a choice determined by the spectators. It would not go well if you killed your opponent when the people wished for his life to be spared.”

Dawur's eyes narrowed in question. “I thought our tyrant Mongul was the one with the power. What is this talk of the spectators choosing who lives or dies?”

“Mongul needs to make sure that his people are happy, and in that way he makes the citizens believe that they have power. That is why it is important for you to be in good favor with the people. If the citizens like you, you will be safe.”

“And then I just ask them nicely to let me bring the Reach's fleet in and Mongul won't be able to do anything about it?” Dawur replied sarcastically. “How does the Ambassador think having me put on display will help our invasion?” he spat.

The infiltrator bowed her head. “I cannot answer that, enforcer. The Ambassador has told me that he has plans, but he has not elaborated on what they are.”

_“Voice analysis indicates that Khaji-Ro is lying,”_ the black scarab said immediately.

Dawur's gaze turned into a glare, and he stood up off the wall and walked up to the bars to face her with his full height. Khaji-Ro looked up at him for a few moments as her eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

“Enforcer...?” she asked, trailing off.

“Surely you know that the scarabs can detect when someone is lying. Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell?” hissed Dawur. His hand grabbed at one of the bars, making her jump back slightly. “Now, tell me what our invasion plans are,” Dawur continued.

Khaji-Ro hesitated, but met his glare head-on. “Apologies, enforcer, but I cannot follow that command,” she replied firmly.

“You can't follow a direct order? Then your scarab must be corrupted,” said Dawur. “And at this moment in time, that is not something I want to deal with.”

“This scarab is fully functioning and on mode,” said Khaji-Ro. “But I cannot follow that command.”

Dawur stood there silently seething while Khaji-Ro refused to budge. Then the black scarab spoke up again. _“If she cannot answer your question, it indicates that -”_

“ - the Ambassador ordered you not to tell me.” Dawur finished aloud, realizing the fact with an irritated sigh.

“His reasoning was that you needed to focus on your current task alone, and that you would be informed of the rest of the invasion plan when the time came,” said Khaji-Ro.

Dawur let go of the bar, returning to his original position against the wall and pinching his brow in exasperation.

_“Khaji-Ro is following orders. You cannot blame her for her inability to give us information.”_

The enforcer looked back to her, seeing that she had not left. When he spoke again, his tone was considerably more calm.

“Is there anything else I need to know about my 'test' tomorrow?” he asked.

“They expect much from you, enforcer,” she said. “Tomorrow, you will be fighting against the man who is considered to be the War World's strongest gladiator. You will either defeat him, or die trying.”

Dawur grunted in response before waving her away. Taking her cue to leave, the woman bowed and snuck back into the shadows. Dawur watched the hall until he was sure she had left, and then attempted to get some sleep.

\-----

The loud crash of the door being slammed open rang through the cell, so unexpected that even Dawur couldn't help jumping as he and the other prisoners were awoken. Mumbles from the others started and quickly stopped as they saw two of the guards at the doorway. They entered, reaching for the prisoners inside to herd them out of the cell. But when one approached Dawur, it stopped. The eye looked down at the ruined shackles at Dawur's feet, then back to him. The robot hovered in place, long enough for Dawur to wonder if it had broken down.

Then without any warning it grabbed Dawur by both shoulders and stayed still.

'What is it doing?' asked Dawur.

_“Analyzing,”_ the scarab replied. A soft glow appeared from the area the where Dawur's armor met with the War World tech as the scarab hacked into the robot's system. “It has sent a report to the central computer that your restraints were found destroyed, and has requested the best course of action of how to deal with you.”

'And that would be?'

Dawur's question was answered for him as a third guard entered the cell, moving to the other side of the him and grabbing a hold as well. With both arms restrained, Dawur was moved out into the hallway while the first guard finished removing his cell-mates.

_“Their central command ordered that you are to be taken to the arena as originally planned. A report has been made about the restraints.”_

'That's all?'

_“Analysis shows that the War World drones' functions are limited to patrolling and defense, along with keeping watch on the coliseum's slaves. You had destroyed the shackles, but had not escaped the cell; the guard was unable to determine how to handle the situation.”_

'So these drones are barely A.I. They can't even make a decision on their own,' Dawur scoffed. 'Considering how we were told of how paranoid Mongul was, it is surprising that this is the defense for his palace.'

He continued behind the group like that until the guards holding Dawur made an abrupt stop and turned down a hallway to the left.

The hallway he was now walking along went upwards, and although it was nicer than the one outside of the cell, it still retained the look of disrepair. They turned another corner, one of the guards hitting the wall and making a large dent in it, and Dawur saw that down this hall there was natural light coming from the windows. There was also a figure in the hallway.

They were dressed similarly to Khaji-Ro, and looked just as malnourished. Dawur wasn't able to tell what species they were, as they faced away from the group, scrubbing at the floor with a washrag. The only indication they made that they noticed them was the way they scooted closer to the wall, making more room for the group.

They continued upwards, and soon Dawur found himself in a holding cell. Unlike the previous one, this cell had windows, allowing Dawur a first real glimpse at the planet. A smoggy light blue sky hung above gray wall that almost obstructed it, and below that, he could see people. Hundreds of thousands of different species, packed together in rows upon rows of seats, all cheering and chanting things that were indistinguishable all put together.

A match was already in progress, this time between what looked to be a Vornian and yet another Thanagarian. The match had clearly been going on for quite some time, as one of the Thanagarian's wings looked torn and bloody, and it flopped around limply as he parried the Vornian's blows. The Vornian took advantage of the weakness, and when he managed to get behind his opponent, he stomped on the lifeless wing, keeping the Thanagarian in place when he tried to run. One swift swing of the axe, and the Thanagarian was down.

The Vornian stood over the fallen man, looking up, waiting for the verdict. This time Dawur was able to make out one word from the spectators: Kill.

A deep voice echoed over them, confirming their demand, and the Vornian embedded his axe into the Thanagarian's spine. A few twitches and spasms later, and the Thanagarian was dead.

_“Another unfortunate end for one of the fighters,”_ the scarab commented.

'Maybe they wouldn't be desperate for able men if they didn't kill them off just because these meat tell them to.'

The sharp clicking of shoes against the stone floor caught his attention, and Dawur turned his head in time to see the Chancellor enter the small room and walk straight up in front of him.

“I am going to make this very clear, Reachling,” the Chancellor snapped. “Neither Lord Mongul or the people of Debstam are forgiving of those who fail. I can't tell you how many supposedly 'strong' slaves I've bought only for them to die immediately in the arena.” A finger jabbed at the Dawur's chest. “You were bought to defeat our greatest warrior, and I expect you to do just that. If you can't, don't plan on living past this match.”

The Chancellor spun around, stomping back out the door as he barked orders to the guards.

“Get him out there now!” he yelled. The door at the opposite end of the room slid open, and the guards pulled Dawur towards it, shoving him through the entrance and then closing it behind him.

The barred door led to a large, circular area, closed in by walls and a floor covered in dirt. Above the walls sat hundreds of spectators, all of whom began speaking amongst themselves when Dawur walked out out to the center of the ring. From what Dawur could see, the majority of the reaction seemed to be a mild interest. Dawur glanced behind him, and saw Mongul on his throne. He too, only looked mildly intrigued, casually resting his jaw against his hand.

“Citizens of Debstam!” a voice called from the right, and when he looked, Dawur saw the Chancellor standing on a raised platform. This Chancellor was energetic and excited, the complete opposite of how he had acted only a few minutes before.

“Citizens of Debstam!” he repeated, “today you are presented with a most unusual specimen!” He motioned to Dawur. “A warrior from a species known as the Reach!”

The murmurings from the crowd rose slightly at the proclamation, but they still seemed to be unconcerned about Dawur's presence.

'Khaji-Ro was correct about the Reach being relatively unknown here,' Dawur thought. 'And any who do know of us most likely do not care.'

_“Would you be concerned about a nameless rogue warrior that you expected to die?”_ the scarab responded.

“But will this warrior be able to best Debstam's finest?” the Chancellor continued. “Let us see, when he fights Draaga!”

The gate directly in front of Dawur opened, and a man stepped out. He was sparsely dressed, a shoulder-guard and a loincloth being the most that covered himself. Two white tusks protruded from the sides of his chin, and his gray skin showed off the various scars that littered his body.

The spectators roared at his entrance, filling the stadium with their cheers. But Draaga did not acknowledge them. He kept his eyes focused on Dawur as he walked to the center, stopping a few feet away from him.

“I hope you will at least provide an interesting battle,” Draaga said.

Dawur said nothing, but could not keep himself from smirking.

_“Above you,”_ said the scarab.

Dawur looked up just as a long cylindrical object was thrown down to him, catching it just in time. One click of a button, and an axe blade made of energy formed at one of the ends.

Draaga did the same, and had already assumed a battle stance.

Above them, Mongul raised a hand, and waved it downwards.

“Begin.”


End file.
